


Locked In

by Amy_de_lABC



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-30 00:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16275884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amy_de_lABC/pseuds/Amy_de_lABC
Summary: Sam and Dean get tired of Cas and the Reader dancing around one another and decide to take a hand in their relationship. Things get...interesting.





	Locked In

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. *sobs*
> 
> Setting: This takes place at some unidentified (probably never going to happen) point post S10 (although I don’t think there are actually any spoilers, so it could theoretically be set as an AU at just about any point after they find the bunker), where everybody’s reasonably happy, the Mark is gone, Cas is a proper angel with his own Grace again, and, at least at the moment, they’re just working normal cases… HOWEVER, the whole April fiasco didn’t happen. (In my head, it didn’t. I like my Cas clueless.) ’Kay?
> 
> A/N: Also, I know this is just about the most cliché cliché ever used, but it’s also one of my favorites, so… Yeah. Sorry to anyone who’s bugged by it.
> 
> Oh, yes, and please note that I am NOT A SLYTHERIN. I have essentially zero ability to be cunning or sneaky, so Dean and Sam’s skills in this area may seem a little off for this fic. Apologies.
> 
> (Speaking of Slytherins, I freely admit to having shamelessly, albeit by accident, stolen a book title from J.K. Rowling and adapted it to my own use.)

You sat in the bunker’s library, doing some research for the latest case.  Cas had come to help, and all three of the boys were in various postures of industry, relaxed or not, around the room.  You were feeling a bit “researched out,” and trying desperately not to let yourself get distracted by watching Cas—the way he sat straight in his chair, even after the hours spent in the same position; the way his lips pursed slightly and his eyes narrowed at the page as he read; the way he looked up at you and said your name…

Wait.

“Y/N?” he asked again, and you felt your cheeks heat up.  You hoped he didn’t think too much about catching you staring.

“Hmm?”

“Do you have _Shifters through the Ages_?”

“Yeah.  I’m reading it now.  I’m almost done with the chapter, though.  Can you wait a second, or should I hold off?”

"Can you give me just a moment with it?  I need to check a fact.”

"Sure,” you answered easily, and he wandered over to you.

You twisted to hand him the book at the same moment that he leaned down, apparently intending to read over your shoulder.  Then you both froze as your movements brought your faces much closer together than you had meant them to be.  You could feel your heart hammering at his proximity, and you were fairly sure that your face was starting to redden again, as well.

After a long moment, you managed to gather yourself enough to squeak out a, “Here.  Sorry,” and shove the book into his hand.  He took it a little clumsily, and quickly sat down at the table opposite you, flipping to the index.

You watched his hands turn the pages for a moment, and then looked away, feeling awkward without a book in front of you.  Your gaze caught Dean’s, and, seeing the glint in his eyes, you realized that he must have picked up on what had happened.  You winced, forcing yourself not to groan out loud—you knew you were in for some teasing—and his grin got even wider.  Then, much to your mortification, he gave you a wink.

You were ridiculously grateful when Cas plonked the book back down in front of you, although it didn’t escape your notice that he was careful to give your chair a wide berth, and that he then fled to his previous seat as fast as was possible without actually running, or, more likely, teleporting.  You hoped that he hadn’t understood your reaction to what had happened.  Maybe he was only embarrassed because he had sensed the awkwardness in the air or something.  (The idea of Cas picking up on and reflecting others’ emotions was somewhat improbable, though he’d certainly improved at that skill since you’d met him; however, you were steadfastly ignoring the unlikelihood of your theory, because the alternative was that he had realized your feelings for him, and you didn’t want to think about that.)

Attempting to return to work, you tried to keep your eyes away from Dean.  For some reason, though, his stare was magnetic, and as soon as he saw that you were looking at him again, he raised his eyebrows at you with that ridiculously knowing grin.

You hurriedly turned back to your book, but you were unable to concentrate for the rest of the research session.

* * *

A few days later, the four of you had driven out to Washington State to do some on-site work.  The monster (or monsters?  You weren’t sure yet) you were after was in Seattle.  After arriving in the evening and spending the night at a motel, as per usual, you woke in the morning ready to do your job.

It was agreed over breakfast that you would split up.  Dean and Cas were to go to one witness’s house, and you and Sam to another.

You were just about to turn the talk to other things when Sam said, “Guys…   I know this is a little unconventional, but I think we should use public transportation today.”

You frowned a little, Cas tilted his head, and Dean just stared at him, apparently dumbfounded.

Sam sighed, obviously having expected this reaction, and elaborated.  “Look, it’s weird and all, yeah, but there are a couple of advantages.  First of all, it’ll make things easier on me and Y/N, so we don’t have to go kick around somewhere while we’re waiting for you two to be done and come pick us up.  Also—”

“So we’ll drop you off, and you can take the bus after that,” growled Dean.

“ _Also_ ,” Sam stressed, glaring at him, “I’ve heard that driving in Seattle is really hard.  All these one way streets and dead ends.  I just think it would be a lot easier.”

“And what if Baby gets stolen while she sits here in the parking lot?”

“Come on, Dean.”  Sam’s eye roll was expressive.

Dean, however, was not to be swayed.  “No.”

“I would like to use this ‘public transportation,’” Cas put in.  “The buses I have previously traveled on were fascinating studies of humanity.”  You looked over at him with a grin, and he returned it.  If anyone else had said that, you would have thought it was a flimsy excuse, and that they really just wanted to bug Dean; knowing Cas, though, you were fairly sure it was the truth.  Still, you wondered if the angel had finally learned how to tease, and was trying to mess with Dean.  You had a sneaking suspicion that he was at least aware of the effect his words would have.

If Cas _was_ trying to annoy the older Winchester, it was working, you noted, tearing your eyes away from the glinting blue ones across the table.  Dean was glaring at his friend.  “Well, fine, then!  You three take the bus, and I’ll take Baby.”

“Dean, that’s stupid,” argued Sam.

“Sam has a point,” you interjected, half-entertained, half-exasperated by Dean’s stubbornness.  “I’ve heard about Seattle driving being a pain, too.  Not as bad as some places, apparently, but I guess it can get really confusing trying to navigate.”

“I don’t care.  I’m driving.  You all can come, or not.”

Sam stared at him for a moment in obvious aggravation, and then rolled his eyes again.  “On your own head be it if you get hopelessly lost, then.”

In the end, you and Sam took the bus to the nursing home your first witness lived in, and Dean and Cas headed off in the Impala to question somebody else.  After they were done there, Cas planned to bus to their next destination.

The first leg of your investigation didn’t yield much new intel.  The elderly lady whose son had been killed was…not all there.  If it hadn’t been for the police report and the body, you weren’t sure you’d have believed in a murdered son at all.  As it was, your presence apparently confused her, as did your inquiries, which she didn’t want to answer.  You finally gave up, after many glares from the nursing home staff, and headed back out to the nearest bus stop to catch your ride to the next person’s house.

As you boarded the bus, you looked around for an empty spot, and, somewhat to your surprise, spied Cas in the back.  You quickly went to claim the corner seat next to him, and Sam followed, sitting on his other side.

“Hey, Cas!” you said.  “Headed to your next place?”

He smiled at you.  “Yes.  I was not aware that we would be on the same bus.”

“Neither was I,” you said, returning the smile.

After a moment, Sam cleared his throat, interrupting just as you started to get lost in those azure eyes.  When you turned to him apologetically, realizing you had forgotten about him, he was grinning.  You tried not to think about why.

“How’s it going, Cas?  You learned anything yet?” he asked.

The angel shrugged slightly.  “Not a great deal,” he replied.  “But it does seem likely that the situation is caused by…what we thought it was,” he finished, obviously remembering just in time that it wasn’t a good idea to talk about this sort of thing too freely in public.

 “Figures,” you said with a sigh.  “Oh, well.  At least we’re going into this prepared.”

He nodded, and then asked, “What did you learn from your witness?”

You grinned wryly.  “Nothing much.  She was a little bit…confused.  Seemed to think we were spies or something.  She kept saying we couldn’t make her give anyth—”  Your words broke off in a gasp as the bus hit a large bump while turning a corner, and you were flung sideways, essentially into Cas’s lap.  Another bump threatened to send you flying out into the aisle, but you felt him catch you.

You found yourself sprawled against him, his arms locked around you, and you knew your cheeks were coloring.  “S-sorry.  Thanks,” you mumbled, and tried to get up.  For a moment, his embrace was still tight, but then he appeared to realize that he was holding you and quickly relaxed his grip.  You disentangled yourself and planted your backside firmly down in the other seat, watching the city pass by out the window until your blush faded, and only looking up to bid him a short, uncertain goodbye when he got off the bus.

You were so busy stewing in your own embarrassment that you didn’t see the way Sam watched the two of you and smirked to himself.

* * *

Incidents like this continued to happen throughout the next month.  You finished the hunt and drove back to the bunker, then worked on some more cases, and nothing changed.  Finally, Dean had had enough.

“Hey, Sam, powwow,” he said one morning, having caught Sam in the hall, on his way out to the kitchen.

His brother looked puzzled, but followed Dean into his bedroom anyway, watching as he shut the door.

“There,” the older Winchester sighed, and plopped himself down onto the bed.

“What’s up?” asked Sam curiously.

“This has to stop,” he announced.  Then, off Sam’s look, he elaborated, “Cas and Y/N.  They’ve been dancing around each other for weeks now.  It’s driving me insane!”

Sam rolled his eyes.  “Me, too,” he admitted.  “I mean, I know Cas hasn’t ever had a romantic relationship or anything, and from what I’ve gathered from Y/N, she’s never really done much dating either, but still…  It’s seriously getting ridiculous.  And I think it’s been longer than weeks.  I’m actually thinking more like six months, maybe longer, but I didn’t really notice too much before, and I don’t think it was this bad until about a month ago.”

Dean sighed, frustrated.  “Well, either way, it’s gotten really annoying.  I swear, if they don’t figure things out soon, I’ll lock them in a room together myself.”  Then, as he realized what he had said, he felt as if the proverbial light bulb had clicked on over his head, and he couldn’t stop a wide smirk from spreading across his face.  “Sam!  How about it?”

Sam frowned at him.  “How about…?”  Then he appeared to realize what Dean meant, and looked horrified.  “Dean!  No!  We’re not going to—”

“Why not?” Dean wanted to know.  “It’s not like it’ll hurt anybody.  We won’t leave them in a closet until they starve or anything, just long enough so that if we’re lucky, they’ll finally admit their feelings to each other.”

Sam was shaking his head even before Dean finished the sentence.  “Dean, you’re crazy!  You can’t just go around locking people in closets!”

“Ah, come on, Sam!  If nothing else, it’ll be hilarious!  And they obviously need a nudge in the right direction.”

“Dean…”  Sam was either running out of arguments, or he was just speechless with exasperation.  (Dean kind of suspected it was the latter.)

“Come on, Sammy, you owe me,” he wheedled.

“No, I don’t!”  Sam protested indignantly.  Then he sighed.  “Anyway, what about Cas?  He’ll be able to get out right away!  And how would we even get them in there in the first place?”

“That’s why I need you,” Dean told him.  “You’ve gotta be the smart one, who helps me fill in all the holes in my plan.”  As he spoke, he could see reluctant interest dawn in Sam’s eyes, along with a familiar determination, and he grinned, knowing he had won.

His little brother had never been able to resist a puzzle.

* * *

Later that day, when Cas appeared, Dean decided it was time to put their plan in motion.  The Winchesters had spent some time cleaning out a freestanding wardrobe in the storage area.  Then—with what Dean felt was a real stroke of cleverness—they had used water-based paint to create a Devil’s Trap on the stone floor near the wall, moved the wardrobe into its center, and put down holy oil on top of the outer ring of paint.  This way, they hoped, Cas wouldn’t realize that this was meant as a trap for him.  Sam had also insisted they try lighting the oil-on-paint on a different part of the floor, to be sure the paint wouldn’t catch.  (Though Dean was glad it hadn’t for the sake of the plan, he had also been slightly disappointed.  It would have been really cool to see a Devil’s Trap made of fire.)  To support the story they were going to tell the two of you, they’d added some writing in different languages on the back wall of the wardrobe (the translation via Internet was Sam’s job).  Only after all this was done had they come back to the main part of the bunker and proceeded with their day as normal.

It was just after dinner when Dean heard the familiar flutter of wings.

“Hey, Cas,” he greeted the angel, without even looking up.

“Hello, Dean,” was the predictable response.

Trying to hold back his grin, Dean finished cleaning the gun he was on, and then stood.  “So, Cas, you want to do a little more research for us?  We haven’t gotten much farther since you left yesterday; we were busy all morning.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.  I need to talk to Sam.”

The angel nodded and chose a book from the shelves as Dean left, heading for the kitchen, where you and his brother were washing the dinner dishes.

“Hey, Sam,” he called as he entered the room.  “Hey, Y/N.”  Then, as Sam turned, he added meaningfully, “Cas is here.”

“Where?” you asked, finishing with the last dish and putting it away.

“Library,” said Dean.  “But I was actually wondering if you could do me a favor before you go and help him or whatever you were planning to do.”

You shrugged.  “Sure.”

Dean tried to hold back his smirk.  “I was cleaning out one of the closets earlier today—well, not exactly a closet, but whatever—and I saw some German written inside the back wall of it.  I was wondering if you could come down there with me, take a look?”  He had carefully thought of this story, knowing that you spoke a little German.  “It also had what I think is Enochian, and something that might be Russian, and another language or two.  But maybe it’s all different translations of the same thing?  I don’t know.  Anyway, it would help a lot with the inventory if you don’t mind taking a few minutes.  I’ll grab Cas to help, too.”

“Okay,” you responded, and Dean had to fight himself not to laugh in triumph.

“Hey, Sam, you wanna come?” he asked instead.  “Who knows, your geekiness might help us out somehow.”

* * *

You followed Dean to the library, greeted Cas happily, and then, after another explanation to the angel, the four of you trooped down to the storage areas, where Dean led you to the wardrobe.  Cas stepped into the small space, and you stayed nearby, intending to wait your turn.

“Go ahead, Y/N,” Dean said, handing you a flashlight.

You looked at him, a little confused.  “Shouldn’t I wait until Cas is done?  It looks a little squished in there.”

“You could,” he said with a shrug, “but it would be faster if you just went ahead.  It probably won’t take you too long, right?  And we do have research to do for the case.”

You hesitated.  It wasn’t that you minded being in a small space with Cas, not at all.  What you _were_ worried about was that he would notice the effect it had on you.  _Still_ , you told yourself, _like Dean said, it won’t be for very long.  I can finish fast, right?  Besides, if Cas heard that, he might wonder why I don’t agree…  Might as well just get it over with._

Mind made up, you took a deep breath and squeezed into the wardrobe next to Cas.

You had just turned your flashlight on when the doors swung shut.

“What—”  You whirled around (well, as much as you could do so in the tiny space) and knocked on the door.  “Dean!  Sam!”

“Oops.”  Dean’s voice was exaggeratedly apologetic.  “Sorry.”  Then you heard him start to laugh.

“Sorry, Y/N.  Sorry, Cas,” added Sam.  He sounded more genuinely regretful than Dean, but his remorse apparently wasn’t enough to get him to let you out.

“Dean, I don’t understand,” Cas said from next to you.  “Why have you shut us in?”

“Read the writing on the back.  You’ll get it.” Dean chortled.  “Guys, we’ll come back to check on you in a while!”  This was followed by two sets of retreating footsteps, and the sound of Dean’s chuckles fading away.

Oh, you were going to _kill_ them.

After a few minutes of fuming, you decided to try and escape.  After all, surely a wardrobe couldn’t be too hard for an experienced hunter to break out of.  You gripped your flashlight more tightly, hoping to use it to help you beat the doors down—but just then, an idea occurred to you.

“Cas,” you said, turning to the angel next to you with some difficulty, and trying to ignore how close he was, “can you just teleport us out of here?”

He had been strangely quiet all the time you were plotting the Winchesters’ murders, you realized suddenly, as you spotted the reason for his silence.  He had apparently decided to take Dean’s advice, and was studying the strange symbols on the back wall intently.

“This is very difficult to read,” he said.  “Sam and Dean seem to have had a source that was only semi-reliable when they wrote it.  However, I believe I am beginning to understand what it’s meant to say.”  He trailed off again, still looking at the symbols, and then added absentmindedly, “No, Y/N, I cannot teleport us out.  They have placed a ring of holy fire around the wardrobe.”

You made a frustrated noise in the back of your throat.  “Great.  Figures.”  Then you raised your flashlight again.  You’d just use it to bash your way out, like you had been intending to do a few moments ago.  However, another problem quickly surfaced:  you couldn’t get much momentum when swinging your arm, since you only had a small space to move it in.  Nevertheless, you began to hit at the doors, concentrating your strikes in one spot.

A few minutes passed in this way, and then, quite suddenly, one of your blows somehow managed to connect with something other than the wood in front of you.

“Ouch!” said Cas, sounding surprised.

You gasped.  “Sorry!  Sorry!  Are you okay?”  You had been whacking at that door with all the strength you could muster.

Even in the dimness outside the bright circle of illumination from the flashlight, you could see his smile.  “I’m an angel, Y/N.  I’m fine.  Although it did hurt a little more than I would have expected; hence my exclamation.  I apologize if I scared you.”

You winced.  _Of course._   “No, that’s fine.  I mean, I was just—I forgot you’re an angel, and, well, I was worried I’d hurt you—I mean, I didn’t forget you’re an angel, _exactly_ , but I…”  You forced yourself to clamp your lips shut before you could continue babbling.

Cas just kept smiling at you.  “I believe I understand what you meant.”

You nodded weakly and, for lack of anything better to do, turned to the German written on the rear wall (you weren’t about to go back to trying to break out after that, even though you hadn’t actually hurt Cas).  You tried desperately to ignore the way your heart was still pounding even though you had stopped your trying-to-knock-the-doors-down aerobics.  Instead, you attempted to focus on the German, which was just a couple of short sentences.

_Sag ihm einfach! Wir lassen Sie nicht heraus, bis Sie tun._

This, though there were a couple of mistakes, was obviously meant to say something along the lines of:

_Just tell him!  We won’t let you out until you do._

You felt your face heating up, in both fury and embarrassment.  You’d been afraid it was something like this that had them locking you in with Cas, and here it was, confirmed.  _Obviously, Dean thinks it‘s hilarious to humiliate me.  Why can’t he stay out of it?  It’s none of his business anyway.  And Sam!  I wouldn’t have thought Sam would take part in a plan like this; he normally has more tact than—_   You were interrupted in your increasingly forceful mental tirade by a sudden, quiet, but very intense “Oh,” from Cas.  Then he said it again.  “Oh.  _Oh._   I see.”

You looked over at him, surprised.  “What?  What do you see?”

He started, peered at you for a few seconds, then looked away, as if he were self-conscious.  He must have forgotten that you could hear him, you decided.  You were given more evidence in support of this theory when he mumbled evasively, “Oh, I—I’ve just figured out what they meant to write in Enochian, that’s all.”

You couldn’t help but ask.  “…and?”

He shook his head, still not quite looking at you.  “Nothing particularly important.  A bit silly, actually.”

You sighed.  “Mine was, too,” you said disconsolately, and fell silent again, kicking idly at the doors for something to do.

Time passed, slowly.  Finally you perked up, hearing a noise from outside:  Footsteps, then Dean’s gleeful voice.  “Well?  Can I let you out yet?”

Hearing the smugness in his tone made you angry again.  “You’d better!” you threatened.  “If you don’t—well, I’m already going to rip you apart the minute I get out of here!  It’ll just be more merciful if you let me out now.”

Dean, much to your annoyance, just laughed.  “Come on, Y/N.  You think I’m scared of you?”

“You should be!” you snarled.

“Eh, whatever.  I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” he said, and you were cast back into your haze of mortification and rage.  How dare he do this to you?!  And how _dare_ he dismiss you like that?!  You were so livid with anger that you only half-heard him as he continued, “What about you, Cas?  I take it you haven’t fulfilled your requirement, yet, either?”

“No, Dean,” answered the angel.  “And I’m really rather annoyed that you have taken it upon yourself to interfere in what should be a private matter.”

“Come on, buddy!  It’s been way too long!”

“I would request, if you want me to do this, that you stop hinting at it and let me do it in my own way,” returned Castiel, his old, flat tone in place.

You could hear the grin in Dean’s voice as he spoke.  “You’re going to do it, then?  Promise, Cas!”

The figure next to you was silent for so long that you wondered vaguely if he just meant to ignore Dean.  Then he said quietly, “Very well.  However, I am only complying with your demands because I, too, feel that it is past time for me to do as you’ve suggested.”

“Look, I don’t care how you do it, or why you do it.  Just _do_ it, already!” said Dean, and then added, “Bye.  I’ll be back in another hour or so.  You guys have your phones, right?  You can call me if you need out before then— _if_ you’ve done what you were supposed to.”

You heard his footfalls as he started to retreat again; he didn’t wait for you to confirm that you had your phone.  You had calmed a little by this point, but you were still furious, and couldn’t stop yourself from calling after him, “Yes, Dean, we have our phones!  Thanks for _waiting for the answer to your question_ to make sure we’re not stuck down here for another hour unnecessarily!  Oh, wait!  This whole thing is unnecessary, anyway.”

Somewhat to your surprise, you heard Cas chuckle a little.  You turned to face him again with a sigh.

“I’m really starting to dislike Dean,” you complained.

“I understand.  I’m not too happy with him, myself,” replied Cas.  Then it was his turn to sigh.  “However, I suppose that I might as well get this over with.  He and Sam are correct.  I have waited too long to tell you.”

Suddenly, several things clicked into place in your head.  You could feel your heartbeat and breath speeding up, but tried to remain calm.  It wouldn’t do to get all excited if you were wrong.  “Tell me what?” you inquired, hoping you sounded less worked up than you were.

“I…  Well, I’m not entirely sure how to say this, but…  Y/N, you are…a most extraordinary person, and…and I care about you a great deal…but I think that care is…more intense than might normally…er…”  He shook his head and started again.  “I understand if you don’t feel similarly about me, but…  I think that I care for you…romantically.”

You tried to read his face in the dim light, hoping fiercely that this was really happening.  It took you a moment, but you finally managed to croak out, “Really, Cas?  I mean…  I—I care for you, too.  A lot.  Romantically.”

The glowing smile that bloomed over his face made your stomach swoop.  “Then would you like to…be my girlfriend?  That is the correct term, is it not?”

You would defy anyone not to reflect that smile right back at him.  “Yes, it’s right, and I’d love to.”

He pulled you into his arms, and put his mouth to your ear.  “Good,” he breathed, and you shivered.  Then, before you had time to say anything else, his hand was on your cheek, turning your face towards him, and he was kissing you.

Needless to say, you kissed back fervently.

* * *

A few minutes later, you agreed that you were done being in the wardrobe.  Reluctantly, you dialed Dean’s number.  You didn’t really want to talk to him, but it was the only way to get out.

He picked up with an interested, “Well?”

You tried to inject as much of your anger as possible into your voice as you answered, “All right, we’ve got it figured out.  Come let us out.  _Now._ ”

“Forgive me if I don’t entirely trust a desperate woman, Y/N.  What did he tell you?”

“We’re dating now, all right?  Just _let us out._   I’m so sick of this stupid cupboard!”

You heard him whoop.  He didn’t even bother to cover the phone as he hollered, “Sam!  Sam, we did it!”

You heard Sam’s answer from a little ways away.  “Oh, good.  It’s about time.”

“Dean…” you growled warningly.

He laughed.  “I’m coming, I’m coming.”  Then he hung up without giving you time to talk any more.

You sat down on the floor, Cas following suit, and waited.

It took more time than you would have liked for Dean to make his appearance.  You didn’t think it should have taken him twenty minutes to get down to the storage areas, but you supposed he had made a detour to celebrate with Sam or something.  He finally showed, though, and you were more than ready to get out (although, admittedly, you and Cas had passed those twenty minutes very agreeably, alternately talking idly and kissing).  When you finally heard Dean coming towards you, you were tucked against the angel’s side, his arms around you while you fiddled absentmindedly with the lapels of his coat.  Realizing that the culprit was arriving at last, though, you jumped up.

“Dean!  You jerk!  I can’t believe you locked us in here!” you shouted.

“Cool down.  It was just a little fun.  And seriously, was either of you ever going to say anything, or were you just going to pine for each other forever?” he answered.  You heard a hiss while he talked, and guessed that the holy fire had just gone out.

Sure enough, Cas was on his feet in record time, and then had wrapped you in his arms and teleported out of the wardrobe before you could blink.

Having taken a moment to adjust to your new surroundings, you then leaned up to press a kiss to your angel’s cheek before stepping out of his embrace and advancing on Dean.

“Whether we would have worked it out is, and remains, none of your business,” you said, hoping you sounded menacing.  (Your ire had been softened somewhat by the new developments, but you had to keep up appearances, after all, or you’d find yourself in this kind of situation all the time.)  “You and Sam shouldn’t have interfered—and boy, am I disappointed in him!  I would have expected this kind of thing from you, but I would’ve thought he would be a bit more polite.”  You took another step forward, and were pleased to see that he took one back.  “You can go tell him that now…or I can rip you limb from limb.  Your choice.  And if you think I can’t take you…well, Cas is here, too, and he’s not best pleased either.”  Another step forward, and Dean broke and scrambled for the door of the room.

“I’m going!” he called over his shoulder.

You grinned evilly as you watched him depart.  Then you moved back over to Cas, and smiled up at him.

“Now, where were we?” you asked.

* * *

A week later, the Winchester brothers found themselves trapped in a closet.

“Y/N!” howled Dean.  “Cas!  This isn’t funny!  Let us out!”

You smirked and laced your fingers with Cas’s.

“Not just yet,” you answered, and went to watch a movie with your new boyfriend.


End file.
